


Snog

by apple_pi



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-17
Updated: 2005-03-17
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7481109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom leapt onto Billy’s back, arms and legs and shaven head and ears and teeth and wickedness and energy. “Give us a snog, Bill.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snog

Dom leapt onto Billy’s back, arms and legs and shaven head and ears and teeth and wickedness and energy. “Give us a snog, Bill.”

“Gerroff.” Billy growled it and then grinned and catapulted Dom over his head and they wrestled across the floor of the exercise room. Dom was fast but Billy was faster. Dom had energy but Billy had skill, and every time Dom had Billy pinned or twisted or smashed flat, Billy eeled out from under him, flipped him, turned the tables, until Billy—amused and sweating but not out of breath except from laughter—had him pressed facedown to the mat, one scrawny arm twisted up behind his back, body shaking with desperate giggles. “Say uncle,” Billy demanded.

“Uncle Billy, give us a snog!” Dom squeaked, and Billy slapped the back of his head and let him up with a laugh.

*

Dom huddled under the tarp with Billy, Merry-wig limp and bedraggled, feet blue where they were visible above Feet. “Give us a snog, Billy.”

“Did you know that the reason water runs off a duck’s back is that its feathers have a thin layer of oil on them?” Billy wasn’t much better off, and they pressed as close as they could for warmth, watching the rain drip from the plastic and waiting for a break so they could go back to filming.

“So if we coated the hobbits in, say, butter, we could just go back to filming,” Dom said. “And the cameramen. And the makeup and costume people. And the stunties. And the rest of the Fellowship.”

Billy began snickering. “Don’t tell Pete. I’m hoping he’ll tell us to go home soon.”

“Mmm. Butter-flavoured Bean.”

“You’re a pervert, Monaghan.”

“Just mad ’cos I said it first.”

Billy shivered, his lips curved in a smile that was all Billy, no trace of Pippin, despite the closest shave money could buy, a chestnut wig, and the woolly scarf. His nose was bright pink with cold. “…Maybe.”

*

Dom slung his arm around Billy, eyeliner and glitter and darkness and flash and sweet scent of Schnapps and sour smell of lager. “Give us a snog, Bills.”

“You’re pissed.” Billy steadied Dom, slid his arm around the narrow waist. “Goin’ tae boak on me?”

“I think I must be pissed, Billy, I can’t unnerstand English anymore.” Dom’s teeth gleamed in the flickering strobes of the dance floor and he lurched against his mate, one sharp hipbone digging into Billy’s.

“Wasn’t speaking English, y’bloody great blootered stoater. Speaking Scottish,” Billy said loudly.

“So you’re pissed, too.”

“Might be.”

“So give us a snog, Bills.”

“C’mon, off to the toilet w’you, before you spew on my trainers.”

“Then you’ll snog me.”

“Then I’ll have m’turn at the porcelain throon.”

“Alright then.”

*

Dom pulled Billy into his lap, a tangle of tired limbs and glue still itchy where the wig had been pulled off and hair gel and pins and hastily removed makeup. “Give us a snog, Billy.”

“I don’t kiss boys in lipstick,” Billy said primly, but his body was warm and boneless and heavy atop Dom’s. His makeup girl rolled her eyes and knelt where she was to finish work on removing Billy’s Feet. Dom’s attendant ignored Billy and Dom and fell into conversation with her. Dom and Billy were silent, Billy’s head a solid pressure on Dom’s chest, arms slung loosely round his waist, Dom’s never-ceasing jitters stilled by weight and comfort and exhaustion. Dom’s hand worked small circles on Billy’s neck and both of them sighed, content.

*

Dom sneezed eight times in a row, red nose and clutched handkerchief and streaming eyes and curses between every one. Looking up when the paroxysm appeared to be over, he grinned blearily at his mate. “Give us a snog, Bill.”

“Chyeah,” Billy said, an oddly American sort of sound-phrase they’d all picked up from Elijah, a combination of disbelief and disgust and amusement that the person in question could be so incredibly presumptuous/dense/just-plain-stupid.

Dom wiped his nose and eyes and blew Billy a kiss. “C’mon, a juicy wet kiss from my Billy’s what I need right now, innit?”

Billy rolled his eyes, prepared to reply—his lips were practically pursed to say it, something rude and vulgar and absolutely perfect—when Peter interrupted. “Let’s give it another go,” he called from the other side of the set. “Dom got his cloak on?” His incongruously high-pitched giggle followed like clockwork, and Dom’s eyes closed in resignation and frustration, humour drowning in a rising tide of histamines.

Billy’s mouth pursed in a different way and he helped Dom settle the cloth around his shoulders. “Have my hankie,” he said quietly, and he smiled and blew Dom a little kiss as they took their places.

*

Dom pushed closer to Billy, heat and sprawling and steady, slow breath, awareness almost gone, only a murmur left... “Give us a snog, Bill.”

“Go t’sleep, Dommie.” Billy murmured the words, pulled Dom closer with sleep-clumsy hands, tucking the younger man’s head against his shoulder, pushing his fingers through smoke-scented tangles so Dom’s body shuddered and then curled against him, breathing deepening, slowing further. Billy dropped a kiss on his head and fell headlong into sleep with his best mate in the loose circle of his arms.

*

Dom finally did it, got Billy pinned, used his greater weight and height to keep Billy there, trapped and wriggling and spitting and cursing. “Give us a snog, Bills!”

“Fucking great cunting pillock—” Billy grunted as he struggled to escape. Both of them had been laughing so hard their stomachs hurt—Billy’s exacerbated, now, by the fact that Dom’s knee was pressing deeply into his spleen. “Gerroff!” he roared, and Dom laughed harder and made himself inexplicably heavier.

“Impressive amount of noise for a man with no oxygen,” he snorted, levering himself down till his face hovered right over Billy’s bright red visage. “Give us a snog, Billy.”

“Piss off, Monaghan.” Billy wasn’t laughing anymore. In fact Dom couldn’t read him at all for an instant and he eased away, thumped ungracefully to the floor to one side and removed his arms and legs and weight and pressure and laughter from Billy, wrapping his arms round his knees, still smiling but unable to disguise apprehension, pure and simple.

Billy rolled over and lay on the carpet with his back to Dom.

“Okay, there, Bills? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“…Nah.” Billy’s answer came slowly, slightly flat. Finally he rolled over, bright-eyed and redder of face than he should be without Dom squeezing all the air from his lungs. “Surprised me is all.” He grinned and Dom grinned back, unease fading though his stomach was still clenched tightly. “I didn’t know you’d got so good at wrestling.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“Only get mad if you stole my whisky.” Billy smiled. “Speaking of which…” He grabbed the sofa and pulled himself upright. “Let’s get trousered and watch Life of Brian again.”

“Drinking game,” Dom declared, bouncing up hurriedly. “Have to take a drink every time you see a man in drag.”

Billy groaned.

*

Dom snuck up behind Billy, pulled him back into a warming embrace and rubbed his hands up and down Pippin’s linen-clad arms. “Give us a snog, Billy.”

“Why’s it always me has to snog you?” Billy complained, leaning back into Dom’s body, shivering. “M’fucking freezing,” he added, apropos of nothing. They watched the crew clamber around, rewiring a faulty light and then camouflaging the cords into invisibility.

Dom tightened his arms, crossing them over Billy’s narrow chest. “S’cold in here.” He breathed warmly on Billy’s nape, puffing at the unruly Pippin curls. He watched the side of Billy’s neck grow pink. Smiled to himself. “You don’t always have to snog me, Billy,” he whispered. “You’ve never snogged me.”

Billy’s neck grew rosier; Dom propped his chin on one shoulder and looked sidewise at his face. 

Billy’s cheeks were pink, too. “Never ever ever?” he said. He sounded… amused.

“Nope.” Dom shook his head, chin twisting into Billy’s shoulder so Billy twitched slightly. “Never ever ever. And of course, you’ve also never ever ever asked me to give you a snog, either.”

“Hm.” Billy didn’t say anything more, just kept leaning back against Dom, against the comfy padding of the fat suit and the warmth of the body beneath it and Dom’s breath in his ear and arms tight around him.

*

Billy trotted after Dom in the parking lot, blinking quickly, colour high in his cheeks, feet bare on pavement, hair spiky with gel and the skin around ears and heels and arches still flaky with glue. His trainers were clutched in one hand; the other was thrust into a trouser pocket. “Give us a snog, Dom.”

“Yeah?” Dom stopped walking, turned to look at him, looked away at the big blue New Zealand sky, the acre of cars, the green of trees and grass and shrubs and life and Billy’s eyes. “C’mere, then.”  
And Billy did, and Dom did, too.

Did kiss him, then, and that was the end of never ever ever.

And the beginning of it, of course, if you put the word _apart_ after it. Which Billy did, and Dom did, too.


End file.
